


Change of Perspective

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Fluff and Humor, Getting to Know Each Other, IronBat - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Post-Batman Begins, Post-Iron Man 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how you twist or tilt them, some things really depend on the point of view.<br/>Figuratively speaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batsocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsocks/gifts).



> Not to creep you out, Batsocks my dear, but this one is for you! In case you wonder why:
> 
> Because it's you who always keeps my spirits up with your constant support and patience (even with the most awful stuff I post, lol)! And because I'm missing the daily comment from you in my inbox (selfish but true ;))
> 
> Hope you like it!

It is a little past 11 pm, at a glitz party in New York, and Tony Stark is trying his best to hide from Christine Everhart. Again.  
Only this time, she and the whole world already know he is Iron Man.  
He got that one off his chest about a month ago, and has been fairly busy saving said world since then.

Tonight, however, it is the great Iron Man himself who needs some rescuing.  
  
At least that is what Bruce Wayne, prodigal son of Gotham City, dryly comments on, after he all but tripped over the man who cowers behind a large Broadleaf Lady Palm in a corner. Annoyed, Tony glowers dark brown eyes upwards. The guy seems to have just popped out of nowhere.

“Just tying my shoe laces. Move along, pal, these aren't the droids you're looking for.”  
The corners of the other man's mouth twitch. He inclines his head and saunters away, hands in the pockets of his suit.  
Before he is gone, however, he casts a final and rather casual glance over his shoulder. Tony peeks up at him again from between the palm leaves.  
  
“She's out on the patio now. Take the stairs to the left of the bar, turn right and you're good.”  
After a moment of initial hesitation, Tony decides to take his advice.  
Finds himself at a staff side entrance and hurries out to where his precious R8 is waiting at the valet parking.

As he speeds down towards his family home on Fifth Avenue, Tony Stark chuckles to himself.  
Yet another Vanity Fair interview postponed. He should definitely be pickier in the future.  
But damn, that Bruce Wayne dude really had amazing eyes.  
  
~~~  
  
Bruce does not remember the last time a finance committee's report made his eyelids that heavy. Combined with the rare amount of a good night's sleep he gets these days (nights), it is no wonder he lets any opportunity to get some shut-eye pass. At least he will try to listen. He can do that just the same, even while his thoughts go astray.  
  
The Tumbler really needs some new shock absorbers in the back.  
Gas-filled or air-assisted? Bruce is not sure.  
The voices around lull him further into a drowsy state of mind.

He should try and listen. He promised Lucius. It seemed important to him.  
The Tumbler can wait then.  
God, this chair was really comfortable.

“Look at that guy, I don't believe this!”  
A pair of expressive brown eyes. A dark goatee. Tony Stark smirking at him from upside down. It is a rather peeved smirk.  
“Well bucko, you're certainly the first guy who's falling asleep on me. _Me!_ This is an outrage.”

Much to the chagrin of Lucius Fox and the board of Wayne Enterprises, they don't find common ground for a deal with Stark Industries that afternoon. At least Bruce Wayne gets some more hours of fitful sleep afterward. And completely forgets about Tony Stark being in Gotham City.

That is, until...  
  
~~~  
  
Wrong place, wrong time.

That is what happens when Tony Stark decides to stay in Gotham City, instead of hauling ass right after the most superfluous joint-venture meeting ever at Wayne Enterprises. He should be aboard his private jet, sip some hot sake and think about modifications for a Mark V prototype.  
  
Alas, he is not.  
At least he has been so clever to bring his armor along.  
And got himself an unwanted sparring partner dressed in black.

Tony should have known it was stupid, really, to go and get into a chase with the crazy freak who called himself the Batman. Even more stupid of him to go and use his repulsors upon a highrise construction site where the two of them ended up at, outside an industrial park. To be fair, Tony does not intend to have the whole damn thing come crashing down on them in an avalanche of rubble, debris, and steel girders.

That just kind of happened.

Once the dust settles, Tony is glad when the HUD starts to flicker again and comes back to life soon after. Jarvis tells him it takes a little while to have Mark IV back up and running. A minor malfunctioning of the twin thrusters he says and Tony is quite glad he has installed a filtration system for situations like these when he cannot get the 230 lbs of armor around him to move.

Mark V better be more flexible in the future. Tony will take care of that.  
  
His eyes begin to scan his surroundings. Everything is cramped, murky, and a mess. A slight phobia wants to manifest itself, one that is connected to dark caves and being trapped. Tony tries to distract himself and spots the reason for his predicament no two seconds later. The masked freak is dangling headfirst over him, about three or more feet away from Tony's immobile reach.

His body seems to be sandwiched in between some concrete blocks, in an angle that looks nothing short of painful. Part of Tony hopes the guy is not dead. That would be awkward for his reputation in this blasted city; from what Tony knows, the batty fella seems to have a lot of fans around here. Shame if he was responsible for killing him off. Part of him ponders whether to call out to him, to make the dreadful silence less unpleasant.

With the ARC creating strange bluish prisms around them, Tony watches as his opponent slowly begins to stir, and almost breathes a sigh of relief. The black cowl is cracked half-open, like a coconut, and red liquid drips down, right onto his chest plate. Bloodied hair billows out from behind the broken mask as the guy turns his head towards him in slow motion. Then Tony gets a glimpse of the face underneath it for the first time.

“... seriously?? _Oh, come on!”_

~~~  
  
“We really need to stop meeting this way.”  
It is the first thing Bruce hears, once he regains consciousness. The voice does not sound British.  
“I'm starting to feel insulted that you're asleep whenever I'm around, let me tell you that.”

Tony's countenance looms over Bruce inside his huge mahogany bed at Wayne Manor.  
The eccentric playboy does not even have a scratch on him. Bruce is miffed. And in pain.  
Maybe he needs to start thinking about Stark Industries more often in the future.

“If any of this makes the papers...”  
  
Bruce knows he is pathetic, croaking out threats from tugged inside a big white eiderdown.  
Tony Stark looks like he does not seem to mind, or maybe he does not even listen. His hands plug at the corner of the blanket.  
He has nice, sturdy fingers, Bruce's concussed mind muses, completely out of context.

“Yeah, kinda lousy first date with you bleeding all over me in a collapsed building.”  
Bruce is so, so tired. He kind of wishes for Alfred to appear and chew him out, give him a lecture.  
And how on earth did Stark end up at his place anyhow? His brows form a wavy line.

As if on cue, Tony's face swims back into his line of view.  
His teeth are so shiny, and his smile is nothing short of endearing.  
Bruce thinks it must be the meds talking. All he does is groan.  
  
“So the next one's gotta be a little less drama, and a little more sexy. Or powerful. Or both.”  
The ruffle to his hair should make Bruce feel angry, patronized. Instead, it makes him feel better.  
“Call me, once you've stopped drooling into the pillow. I've got _a lot_ of ideas for the two of us.”

Somehow Bruce cannot help but think it sounds like the charming opener to a blackmail-venture.

~~~  
  
The large auditorium is crowded with corporate managers, reporters, and PR teams of the various kind.

All eyes rest on Bruce Wayne, standing up there behind a podium, as he introduces the final results of the past weeks of meetings, negotiations, and decisions. His fractured pelvis is bandaged up tight and hidden underneath a dark gray, wickedly expensive Armani made-to-measure. The stitched two-inch laceration on the right side of his head is invisible to the untrained eye, buried underneath thick and styled hair.

Bruce is supposed to get a lot of bed rest for the upcoming weeks, but this event has a special meaning to him, so not even Alfred has been able to keep him confined at home. When he is done acting out his best smooth conversationalist image, Wayne eventually looks down to the front row. Sitting there is one man who fixates him with a trifle more rapt attention than the rest of the crowd. It causes the Gothamite to smirk as he earns himself a quick, clandestine wink.

“It is with pleasure I'll introduce to you my future partner in the quest for green energy and the preservation of resources – Mister Anthony Stark.”

The smile Tony beams at him as he bounces to his feet and struts up the vast stairs is almost enough to provide energy for the whole of Gotham City. The true reasons behind it remain out of the audience's spheres, however, as the man from Malibu then floors the auditorium with a presentation that manages to shush the most obstinate naysayers and critics. Not that there were many to begin with.

No sooner than the conference is over, people are eating finger food and mingle.  
Unbeknownst to them, a dark limousine with tinted windows speeds down towards a Wayne Enterprises Aviation field.  
The waiting Gulfstream does not take long to get clearance and takes off into the late afternoon sky.  
  
~~~  
  
“You're blocking the sun.”  
  
He takes his eyes off the tablet in his hands and squints upwards. The shadow of Tony Stark, arms akimbo and sporting a pair of stylish electric blue swim trunks, falls down onto the muscular, bruised body of Bruce Wayne. Another gentle wave of the Pacific laps against the hull and the super yacht underneath them moves ever so slightly. Its owner snatches off his huge designer shades and throws them onto his own deck chair.  
  
What then follows is a half-indignant, baritone chuckle.  
“Why, Diogenes, it's not like _you'd_ get a tan anyhow. Paleface.”  
With that Tony bends down, leans in for a kiss and gets it, even.  
  
He then traces the large, purplish contused area around Bruce's hipbone with a careful finger. Eventually he hums out his objection.  
“Stop working sugar bottom, your butler's gonna be mad if I don't return you in better condition than he's seen you off.”  
Bruce makes a harrumphing sound at the back of his throat, but puts the pad with the business plan for their upcoming joint-venture on it aside.

Instead, he crosses his arms behind his head and gives Tony a generous view on muscles rippling beneath fair skin. Too bad about that hip injury, Tony muses. Bruce is still out for any strenuous activities for the next couple of weeks. With a devious smile Stark then begins to inch lower, index fingers dragging down the waistband of Wayne's swim trunks in the process.

Hazel-green eyes fixate on him as he gets into a squatted position in front of the recliner.  
Tony grins up at him, fingers finding their destined goal before his mouth follows suit soon after.  
Nothing to be said against a little change of perspective every now and then.

 


End file.
